Still living on the old estate Even though it's hot Not for the opps I'm talking the fucking cops (jakes) Local shops, I did it all bait at their local shops Main bricks hid a thing on my waist What you know about a local bop Are you widdit or not I did it, skidded I'm off In the trap making a prof of Charlie Now I'm in the booth like Charlie sloth (Fire in the booth) I got my Rollie on, take that Carti off She gave me sloppy slop, she a narty thot When I let that bang, it ain't a party pop Yeah they know my face They know my name, they know my spot Yeah they know where we hang But they don't say I call it blot Cos they know what's good for their health They don't wanna end up lost I gotta keep working, working 'Cos I don't wanna end up lost The packs got sold And I got more than paid Dragon pull off the L You know I got more than waved (high as fuck) Shave shave, swing it Tryna ching it Approach with caution Cause you might just end up swinging Look, (come on then) The old boys winning He's giving lip then I might just chin him Grab the wheel then the axel's spinning I've been in this game from my hairline thinning (it ain't no joke) Countless drillings Blood's still thicker, drink keeps spilling (yeah) Pouring a pint on a Friday night, we're them old school villains (oh yeahhh) Couple yanks try biting the UK style but that's fine, it's blessed I can't dodge no bullets, I wrap my chest in a Kevlar vest (yeah) Got an Arsenal down in south, got a pig farm out in west So just drop one text, fly down the M25 no stress Yeah you know me son, you know my face, you know my status (you know my status) So shut your mouth before I put your face on the front of the papers (yeah) You got my number I've got the deals and I've got them flavours (nice) Got a grow next door You know I ain't got no neighbours (Nah) I'm a local hero And I'm talk of the town I'm known to the gavers And they've been poking around I had ditch that phone and I chucked that bing in the back of the rover Never pulled over, foot flat down I can't drive straight 'cos I ain't that sober I'm a lovely geeza But I'm a violent man I cook rocks in pots And smash heads with pans Knock knock, who's there I came to kick your front door down I go Jackie chan Ping pang pow, I laid a man down Working the block like clockwork Out in the sticks with dust in a pot Like Gordon ram in a car That's another man rolled in a fag Got smoked I'm moving wreckless Grab that man by the necklace Phone got robbed for the line (Hello) Texting his number, like look call this one next time I came from dirt and it all got dirty 30s 2 2s and 4 4s Make cash in a burnt out box in Brixton And I make big but I still want more More time on the roadside meant more moular, how could a man just let that go Put in the work and the packs got sold on a mobile phone Get rolled in a fag, get poured in a pint, get sent back home in a black bin bag Shoulda just left it, shoulda gone walkies but big Bas brought 2 toe tags Both hands on her back when I smash it We don't make love we make magic She was speaking Spanish Got me singing love songs in traffic